New Blood
by Davael
Summary: Manta returns back to Japan with his son. New generation of shamans starts forming. AU, slight MantaYoh mentioned and other slashpairings.
1. First Impressions

Title: New Blood

Author: Davael

Rating: PG for this chapter. Might go up from that.

Pairing: Hints of Manta/Yoh, eventually, (Of course!) and some other pairings. Slash for sure.

Author's Note: Err…I'm planning more chapters on this, don't know how many. Basically this is an AU story about Manta and his son. Manta was sent to America when he was fifteen. In this story Manta is about 33 years old, and has a son named Makoto (OC!), who is fifteen. Makoto goes back to Japan with his father, and meets new friends. Manta meets some old friends. Makoto finds out more about his fathers past and shamans. This plot just got stuck in my brain, sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Shaman King characters.

* * *

**1.Chapter: First Impressions**

Makoto sighed, staring accusingly at his reflection from the mirror. He looked like an idiot.

White shirt. Black tie, black trousers, and new, very shiny pair of shoes. Black school jacket, lying forgotten on the bed— It was too hot outside to wear it.

A normal outfit for a Japanese student.

"_Why do I have to wear a tie?"_

He was Japanese, of course, even if he had lived abroad all his life. Makoto Oyamada. Or, like he should say it from now on, Oyamada Makoto.

God, he hated his new school uniform.

It had been his dad's idea, of course, to send him to Japan. Mansumi ("Grandfather," his subconscious corrected absently.) had sent his dad to America when he had been fifteen, and now his dad was sending him, Makoto, to Japan. Oh the irony, not to mention that Makoto had just turned fifteen last month.

He had protested long and hard, of course, but his dad, Manta, had an amazing talent when it came to convincing people to do something they really don't want to do. That's how Manta called it, anyway. Makoto called it manipulating.

Not long after that, Makoto had found himself on plane to Japan.

He sighed, yanking his tie one more time, before grabbing his schoolbag, and heading to downstairs. A first day at new school, and he was so not looking forward to it. At the kitchen his father was drinking coffee, and reading a Japanese newspaper. He looked up when Makoto arrived, smiling slightly at the sight of his son wearing an exactly same kind of uniform as he once had. Makoto scowled at him.

"You know, you just keep getting shorter dad. Must be the coffee."

Manta laughed, not being bothered at all. He knew his son was just letting out some frustration. Calling him shorty had been their own inside joke, when it came clear, that Makoto was going to be taller than he ever had been. He was already few inches taller than Manta, and he was only fifteen and still growing. Not that 5.1 feet was very great accomplishment, as he was still probably shortest in his class, but still... Manta grimaced, remembering the nicknames he had earned from the school bullies due to his shortness. Then he reminded himself that Makoto was different. There was a fat chance _he _was going to be bullied for any reason. Makoto knew how to defend himself, even against Mansumi.

"Have a nice day at school, Mato," he said to his son, who grunted and grabbed his lunch and an apple.

"Make a lot of new friends, okay?" Manta yelled after him, knowing too well how Makoto liked to isolate himself from others of his age. The only answer he got was a faint shout, sounding like "over my dead body!" although Manta wasn't sure.

He sighed and picked up his coffee again.

* * *

Makoto stood in front of his new school, where the driver had brought him. Shinra Private Academy. Damn, it was huge. 

Students were swarming all around him, some glancing at the short brunette boy. He sighed, guessing that it was no use to fight a lost battle, and started to move towards main entrance.

He found his class pretty quickly, but not quick enough. The teacher and students were already inside, students giving him curious look when he crept inside.

"Ah, Oyamada Makoto, eh? Our new student?" Makoto nodded.

"All right. Class, we have a new student. His name is Oyamada Makoto. He has transferred here from America, am I right Oyamada?" Makoto nodded again, and tried not to frown. _Don't call me by my last name, jerk._

"Now, class," the teacher continued, "I want you all help him to adjust, all right." All students were whispering with each other.

"You can take that seat over there," the teacher gestured towards desks near the window. Makoto saw an empty one behind a sleeping blond boy, and escaped there quickly. The teacher started to write something on the blackboard, obvious to the fact that his students were ignoring him and gossiping. Makoto snorted. It seemed like school was same wherever you went.

He was just debating whether to actually listen, or dig up a book he had brought with him, when he felt a light pat on his shoulder. He turned around, coming face to face with a green-haired girl, who was grinning broadly.

"From America, huh?" She whispered in English very quietly. "I'm a transfer too. From Britain. You looked like you were going to kill Mr. Boring back there."

"Not very far from the truth," Makoto muttered back. The girl winked at him.

"Name's Chloris Diethel, but I prefer Lori, from obvious reasons."

"Yes, I can see that," Makoto mumbled before he could stop himself. Damnit! Why did he always have to say the first thing that came in to his mind? No wonder he didn´t have much friends! But Chloris just chuckled.

"Tell me about it. My dad had some pretty weird ideas."

"I'm Makoto Oyamada, like you heard," Makoto said trying to sound apologising, but failing miserably, like always when he had to say he was sorry.

"Japanese name. What were you doing in America?"

"Living there, for starters. I've only visited Japan couple of times. I mean before I moved here last week."

"O-kay," Lori said, and looked like she was going to continue, when a shrill voice interrupted them.

"Oyamada, Diit-hel, what are you talking about?! Not about this class's subject, that's for sure! Now Oyamada, turn around, and concentrate on listening!"

Grumbling, Makoto turned to face the blackboard. Boy in front of him had woken, blinking owlishly at him. Makoto noticed that his hair was unusual blonde next to all of his dark-haired classmates.

"Muhhuh?"

"Just go back to sleep," Makoto told him. Boy gave him a lop-sided smile before doing as he was told. Makoto dared to turn around one last time. Lori grinned back at him, and rolled her eyes.

It seemed like he had made a friend after all. Huh. Who would have known?

* * *

Review? 


	2. Of Ghosts And Weirdoes

**2. Chapter: Of Ghosts And Wierdoes**

* * *

"So why are you here now?" 

It was lunch break finally. Lori had immediately pulled her chair next to Makotos desk, so they could talk while they had lunch.

Makoto munched thoughtfully.

"I'm not that sure, actually. Dad and…grandfather had this fight, and the next thing I know dad asks me if I would like to move to Japan. I wasn't very excited."

He frowned, remembering his father's face, still flushed after the fight, but determinate.

"Hmm. Weird," Lori commented.

"Yes. Weird!" Another voice piped up suddenly. Loris face turned bright red, clashing horribly with her green hair.

"What was that?" Makoto asked. A small spirit dressed in cap and bells emerged behind Lori.

"Nothing," Lori said, seemingly trying to pretend there was no strange spirits making monkey sounds behind her back.

Makoto stared her and the spirit for a while.

Lori, if possible, turned redder.

"Lori, that spirit…" Loris eyes widened in surprise.

"You can see him?" she asked, excitement replacing her previous embarrassment.

Makoto smiled slightly. "I have been able to see ghosts and stuff since I was a kid."

"So you're a shaman too?"

"No. I don't…I just see ghosts. Dad doesn't want me to present it around, for obvious reasons. My…grandfather hates everything abnormal."

"That's so stupid!" Lori exclaimed. A couple of students looked at them curiously and she lowered her head looking abashed.

"That's just my grandfather," Makoto shrugged, "What can you do? But it's not like I pretend that ghosts doesn't exist."

"Still…I hate people like that…My former headmaster didn't believe in ghosts," Lori grumbled, absentmindedly petting the little spirit's head. It purred and giggled.

"That reminds me, why are you here? It's your turn to tell."

Lori grinned.

" I kind of…wrecked part of my school. Completely."

"What?"

Loris grin turned sheepish.

"Yeah, and dad suggested that I would be transferred elsewhere, instead of lawsuits. So I was sent here, since I speak pretty good Japanese. I guess they wanted to send me as far away as possible. You see, I've just got Dooley here, and I wasn't that used to his powers yet, since he's a poltergeist…"

* * *

Makoto was laughing so hard at the end of the story, (Something he hadn't done since he left America.) that he didn't notice the sleepy blond boy heading towards them until he was standing there. 

"…And then Dooley started making faces behind him, and I started laughing, and of course he thought I was laughing at him, and-"

"Hi."

Lori stopped and turned to look at the blond boy curiously and surprised. Makoto just raised his eyebrows.

Blondie smiled lazily to Makoto.

"What's your name?"

"The teacher said it, remember? " Makoto retorted, irritated that the boy was intruding in the middle of the story.

"I didn't hear it." The boy smile widened. He had brown eyes, Makoto noticed. Very brown eyes. Then he mentally slapped himself for thinking about that.

"I'm Oyamada Makoto," he introduced himself. Blonde boy grinned, still examining Makoto with interest, that made him feel uncomfortable.

"You know, you remind me of someone."

"A-ha." Matako didn't really know what to say to that.

"My name is Asakura Hana. Nice to meet you. You're funny," the boy smiled.

"Really? You're the first one to think so."

"I think you're funny, " Lori interrupted loyally. Blonde boy, Hana, seemed to notice her now the first time. He turned to leave.

"See you later, Makoto-kun," he waved happily.

What the-? Makoto-kun?! 

"Well that was weird," Lori said, successfully interrupting Makotos thoughts about throwing his empty lunchbox after Hana.

"You think so? Because calling me Makoto-kun, when we just met seems a little _weird _to me too."

"Not just that. I've never heard him talk a word to anyone."

"Really? He didn't seem to have any problems just now," Makato grumbled.

"Seriously. That was creepy. _He's_ creepy," Lori shivered.

"Says the girl who destroyed every toilet in her former school," Makato smirked, amused.

"Hey! I said it was that poltergeist!"

"Sure, blame the poor ghost, that helps. Shame on you Lori!"

"Don't make me come over there, young man!"

Makoto laughed again. "I'm so scared!"

The next thing he knew Lori had dumped her half-empty lunchbox on his head.

* * *

"I'm hoo-ome!" Hana took off his shoes and stepped inside. 

"Welcome home, Hana-kun. Did you have a nice day at school? You look happy," Tamao smiled, walking past him carrying a laundry basket.

"Yes. I met a new person. I think he would be a great friend. And he looked a lot like this person in one of dad's photos," Hana answered, not bothering to hide his excitement.

"Really? Maybe I should get the photo-album, so we can have a look at that photo."

Hana smiled. Tamao-san was so great!

"I'd like that. Where's Ruy?"

A tender smile crossed Tamao´s lips.

"In the kitchen, of course. You go there, I'll bring that photo-album."

"All right!"

They parted, and Hana headed towards kitchen.

Sure enough, familiar humming could be heard from the kitchen. Ruy was inside, cooking and listening radio. He was wearing a pink apron and smiled when he saw Hana. Light wrinkles around his eyes deepened and his pompadour pounced excitedly.

"Hana-kun! How nice, I was just making dinner! Your father called, they're coming tomorrow."

"That's great," Hana said, stealing a cookie. His spirit ally, a foreign ghost-knight named Valiant floated through the wall.

"Sir Hana, I sensed that you're home!" Valiant said pompously. Valiant had ended up in Japan when his sword had been sold to a local museum. Hana had heard about the haunting sword and persuaded Valiant to be his spirit ally.

"Hi, Valiant," Hana smiled, "What have you been up to?"

"Tokagero tried to teach him to play cards," Ruy informed from the sink where he was washing the salad.

"I had no desire to take part on a gambling game Sir Hana," Valiant exclaimed, aggrieved.

"Oh, really," Tokagero, said, appearing through the wall. "What about the money you owe me, knight boy? You've better pay, or…"

Valiant looked embarrassed.

"I swear Sir Hana, I didn't mean to…" Hana just laughed and waved his hand reassuringly.

"Calm down Valiant, I don't mind if you play with the others." Valiant looked embarrassed.

"So…The money you owe?" Tokagero asked.

"Not now!" Valiant hissed.

"Does that mean that you don't want the money you won from Ponchi and Conchi?"

"I never said that."

* * *

TBC 

All fixed now, thanks to Falcon Strife. :)

Poltergeist: a spirit or ghost that manifests by moving and influencing inanimate objects. I thought it would fit. Besides, I have a soft spot for poltergeists. (Damn you, Rowling!)

Review?


	3. Conversations

**Chapter 3. Conversations**

* * *

Lori and Makoto were walking around Funbari Hill after school. Makoto couldn't believe that he was still there. Normally he could tolerate being around other kids about two hours or so, before he finally snapped and had to go somewhere quiet. But Lori wasn't so bad, really. Sure, she was noisy as hell, but she could see ghosts like him. Like his father had once said…

* * *

"Only good people see ghosts. That's what dad always says, right, Ruy? 

Ryu frowned thoughtfully.

"You're right, Hana-kun. And this boy does sound like a good kid. Tamao-chan, did you find that photo yet?"

"Not quite. There are so much of these…" She sneezed.

Hana stole another cookie, his mind elsewhere. Makoto hadn't looked very happy, when he had called him Makoto-kun. But he had looked so cute, flustered and all…

"Oh, I think I got that album now Hana!"

* * *

"Look, a graveyard!" Lori pointed. 

"So?"

Lori grinned at him. Doovey floated out of her bag to rest on her shoulder, grinning also, albeit slightly maniacally.

"Let's go pay a visit!"

"…Lori, it's a graveyard."

"I bet there's tons of interesting guys there! Come on!"

Before Makoto knew it, he had been yanked over the shabby gate to the cemetery.

* * *

"Is this it?" 

"No, it's this one."

"Ah! This was taken when your father was fourteen, only a year younger than you now!" Ryu exclaimed and smiled at his memories.

"This is the person that looked like that boy at school," Hana pointed at the picture, his finger gently swiping dust from the image of short, brunette boy with large gentle eyes.

Both Tamao and Ryu fell silent. Hana looked at them curiously.

"What is it?"

"Hana…Are you sure…This boy looked like Manta?" Ryu asked carefully.

"That's his name?"

"Yes."

"Who was he?"

Ryu looked so sad for a moment, that Hana wished he hadn't asked.

"He was…little brother. Your father's best friend. Manta-kun."

* * *

"My dad told me he met his first friend at the graveyard," Makoto said, almost conversationally, while they walked through the sea of gravestones. They were heading to hill in the middle of the cemetery. 

"Sounds like a beginning of a perfect friendship," Lori snickered.

"Yeah, right. Dad doesn't talk about that often, or his time at Japan. Sometimes it's like he remembers a bad memory from that time, and sometimes he acts like it was the best time in his life. But he has only mentioned this guy he met at the cemetery twice." Makoto fell silent. He remembered his father's face, slightly tipsy at Christmas party, but still holding so much sadness and some kind of twisted happiness that Makato thought he would remember that forever.

_When I first met him…He was sitting on a gravestone, watching stars._

* * *

"What happened?" Hana asked curiously. 

"I don't know," Ryu answered truthfully, "one day he just came to say goodbye. I thought…" he hesitated, "I think Manta and your father had a fight. Or something like that."

"About what?" Hana asked. If the boy in the picture was the same age as his father, then it could be that he had a child… Who would be about the same age as Hana. Right?

Ryu looked almost irritated because of all the questions, and Tamao touched his hand calmingly.

"You have to ask your father about that," she said quietly.

* * *

When Chloris was happily chatting with a ghost of an attractive woman in red dress and Dooley was having fun annoying other ghosts,( Making monkey sounds.) Matoko found himself walking towards a small hill with a tree growing on top. He walked up to the stairs and looked around. 

There.

A gravestone that looked like it had been broken to pieces once and then glued back together. Strangely, when Matoko stared at it, he felt a familiar feeling.

_It just the cemetery. It could give a strange feeling to anyone, especially if the occupants talk back to you. _

He stared the gravestone for a long while. Then he startled. It was as if he had heard somebody. He looked over the edge of the hill. Lori was still talking with the ghost. But he could swear he heard something. Something else.

_Maybe it was just the wind blowing between the gravestones. _

But when he walked back to Lori and the ghosts, he had a feeling that somebody or something was calling him. Or anyone who was willing to listen.

* * *

Hana had gone to sleep a moment ago. Tamao was washing the dishes, obviously noticing the mood Ryu was. He sat in the living room, quiet, holding the photo they had found earlier. He stared at the smiling faces and smiled slightly to his memories. His eyes trailed over the image of a short boy. Could it be...?

Could it be that Manta was back…?

* * *

A/N: Haha, I´ve been _busyyy_...I´m trying to continue this sooner. Now when my holiday started, there will be more updates. Isn´t that terrific? Happy holidays! 


	4. Voices In My Head

A/N: Ookay. So here is a new chapter. It´s finally getting somewhere, hurray. Don´t have much to say. Visit my DA gallery if you like, I´ll put some crappy doodles about Matoko and Chloris and co. there soon. (Shameless advertising, haha.) And if you know about Lori´s host, you get a cookie. :3

* * *

**4. Chapter: Voices In My Head**

* * *

Something was nagging Makoto. A faint memory, a whisper, message his mind had registered but only remembered afterwards. He was lying on his bed staring the ceiling, but his eyes didn't see anything. When he had finally come home Manta had been there, a sure sign that he had been worried. Usually he worked late. Makoto had answered to his questions patiently, and then excused himself. Not that Manta was really that kind of a father that needed to be excused to leave…Mansumi´s image flashed briefly before his eyes and he shut them stubbornly. 

And then the nagging feeling came back.

Only this time it was a voice. A hoarse angry whisper, repeating over and over again their mantra like a maniac.

_...Left me behind, left me there, he left me, why, left there bleeding, why, why why…_

The voice made him cringe, but he listened the memory patiently. It was like listening a recording. The voice seemed to be stuck in his mind, like that annoying song that just won't go away.

…_so lonely, where is he, why, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, why why whywhywhyWHY?!_

Someone knocked on the door and Makoto gasped for breath, sitting up. His father peeked in carefully.

"Are you sleeping Toto?" He was smiling his familiar, slightly nervous smile, like he was expecting Makoto to tell him to go away. It had always annoyed him, because it made him feel like the adult one. Kids shouldn´t feel like adults in front of their parents. He knew that his father couldn't help it. Makoto knew that he tried very hard not to do that. But it still made him act harshly sometimes, even when he wasn't actually angry towards his father.

This time, he caught himself just in time.

"I was just going to, dad. Did you want something?" Makoto asked, smiling carefully, because smiling too much might just do the same thing as snapping. His father knew him that much. Manta smiled back.

"No…I was just…checking. Sleep well, Toto."

"You too dad."

* * *

Makoto still awake. He couldn't sleep. He liked to sort things out in his head before doing anything else. Every time he closed his eyes he could hear the voice, always stronger than before. It was…disturbing. Someone was calling him, and they could only do it when he had his eyes closed. Why? 

He opened his eyes once again, the voice growing distant. A memory, long time ago. He had stored it for later. He focused and remembered.

A sunny day and a park. His father and he, a six year old, and much more cheerful than now. Somewhere along the path of life he had changed. But that wasn't what he tried to remember.

His father and he…feeding ducks. They had visited at the grave earlier. His father telling him about things, like adults do when they think the kids aren't really listening. But Makoto had been listening.

"-do you know what happens to a person if they die suddenly, Toto? They become fixated ghosts. Y-..Someone told me that once. They don't understand that they are dead. They are frustrated because no one sees them, and over the years they frustration grows and becomes anger, and the anger becomes madness and then…" His father took a deep breath, and seemed suddenly remember where he was. He smiled sadly down to Makoto who wasn't listening, except that he was.

"What am I babbling here now, Toto? Your father is a complete daft, isn't he Toto?" He sighed. Six year old Makoto tried to feed tiny rocks to the ducks since the bread had run out.

"A complete daft," fifteen years old Makoto mumbled to himself. "Thanks dad."

Later on, Makoto remebered, Manta and little Makoto had gone to buy ice-cream cones.

Makoto slept soundly through the night.

* * *

The next morning Makoto had made his decision. He ignored the fluttering nervousness in his stomach, and focused instead on the irritation that he had to go to school, when he had much better things to do with his time. He bid good bye to his father, who was surprisingly still home. 

He met Lori at the school gates. The green-haired girl didn't look so good.

"Coffee," she gasped, "the coffee was out. My host hadn't bought any. Oh bugger…"

"I'll buy you coffee. On the lunch break," Makoto suggested. Lori looked so near tears that it was frightening. He had never been good with crying women.

"My hero," she mumbled, and managed a faint smile.

The lessons went on slowly, with Makoto trying to quietly coach Lori to sit straight so she wouldn't slide under the table, and all the while trying to ignore Hana Asakura who was smirking at him lazily every time he turned around. It was a miracle the teacher didn't say anything, but Makoto had noticed before that the man seemed to ignore more about what happened on their side of class. Probably because of Hana.

When the lunch finally started, Hana went to the closest cafe and bought a huge cup of black coffee. Lori accepted it with teary eyes.

"Darling, you and me have a lot to talk about," she murmured.

"What?"

"I was talking to the coffee."

"Oh."

She took a huge sip and sighed contently.

"My host would probably nag about how unhealthy coffee is. I hope he still bought some."

"Who do you live with?" Makoto asked, curious. Lori waved her hand dismissingly and took another sip.

"It's this German guy, my dad's old friend or something like that. He's not so bad, just a bit weird. He's a doctor. Bloody hell, this is good coffee."

"Oh," Makoto said, and then, because he felt he needed to say something else, "Is he married?"

Lori smirked.

"Kind of. He's a shaman too. Or more accurately…a necromancer."

* * *

When the bell rang at the end of the last class, Makoto waved quick good bye to Lori and run past Asakura Hana who tried to talk to him about something. 

He didn't have time, and besides, that boy made him nervous. Makoto didn't like being nervous.

The graveyard was full of talking, laughing ghosts, as usual. Makoto thought that it was amusing how some people came to graveyard to seek peace and quiet. Oh, they had no idea…

He climbed the stone stairs like he had yesterday. The tree was there. The gravestone was there.

_No one else has been buried here…This is Amidamaru´s, the samurai warriors harbour…_

They were wrong.

Well not quite, since no one was indeed _resting_ here. Matoko closed his eyes. The voice hit him, stronger than before, against his face like a storm wind.

He cleared his throat.

"I´m here. Good afternoon."

* * *

Review? 


	5. Memories, Slight Exorcism And A Talk

A/N: Finally! This chapter has been a real pain...But Keiji is here! And we get a peek of Makoto´s memories again. Gah, I´m so damn tired, even when I practically slept through the holiday. Again, I´ll be eternally grateful of corrections in grammar and such.

* * *

**Chapter. 5 Memories, Slight Exorcism And A Talk**

The cold wind blew across the cemetery. Makoto stood where he had arrived, staring hard at the tree before him.

"I know you hear me."

The voice was gone. It was eerily quiet—Makoto didn't even hear the voices of the ghosts below. Then the chill arrived.

Slowly, the shadows gathered around the tree, twisting and turning and finally forming to a man-shaped creature. Eyes like ice, striking blue, stared Makoto. His teeth were chattering from the cold, but he didn't turn his eyes away from the creature before. He remembered seeing something like this, long ago. Back then he had been only five, but he had understood even then.

What he saw was a fixated ghost.

"_How…How can you…see me? Talk to me?" _The voice was coarse whisper once again. It didn't have to yell because Makoto was right there.

"I've always been able to see ghosts."

"_Ha! There have been others…saying the same. They don't see me. They don't…hear me. I scream in their face, but they won't…notice!"_

"Maybe I just have the right kind of mind," Makoto said boldly.

Ghost answered by laughing. It wasn't a nice laugh, too piercing, and cold.

"_Right kind? You…little boy?! A child?"_

"I'm already fifteen. That's hardly a boy."

"_I've lived centuries here! Don't talk to me so foolishly, boy!"_

"You haven't lived, you've just existed," Makoto corrected.

More laughing. Makoto grimaced.

"_What do you want, boy? I have…nothing."_

"I should ask you the same question. You're the one who called me."

Ask them what they want. Ghosts like that, they usually have unfinished business…

"_I didn't call you."_

"Yes you did. You even invaded my dreams."

"_Are you a shaman? Do you do this to…get rid of me?"_

Makoto hesitated.

"No. I'm no shaman." The words Not Yet Anyway hung in the air.

"_Then why?"_

Makoto opened his mouth and closed it again. Yes, indeed, why? He didn't have to do this. He could just go home…

**

* * *

**

**Makoto had been five, and driving around with his daddy. Makoto liked being with his daddy. Sure, he liked auntie Mannoko, but being with daddy was the best…**

**Daddy had pulled over. They were near a dangerous looking cliff. There was a sign, and even though Makoto was still learning, he could read the words "Danger" and "Fatal Accident Area." His daddy had told him to stay in the car, but Makoto had followed, quietly, so daddy wouldn't notice…**

* * *

"Some things just need to be done," Makoto said. 

"_Ha! A heroic young boy doing… his duty! How ROMANTIC!" _The ghost floated closer, and Makoto felt his eyebrows freezing.

"_Go home, little boy. You can't help me. I won't let you. Run to your mother."_

Makoto gasped for breath. It was hard because of the chill burning down his throat and squeezing his lungs. Then the words registered in his mind.

**

* * *

**

**His father had climbed down the narrow wooden stairs down to the canyon. Makoto had followed, hiding behind the rocks at the bottom of the canyon so his daddy wouldn't see him. Daddy had walked straight to a place, where a couple of rocks had been arranged in a circle. He had stopped, and Makoto had thought, now I will jump out and surprise daddy, and he will laugh…**

**And then she had come.**

* * *

Makoto finally managed to get enough air to talk. 

"I don't have a mother."

"_Do you expect sympathy?"_

"No. But I won't leave. Not until I've dealt with you.**"**

"_But why?"_

"Everyone is worth rescuing."

"_Not me. I'm not worth anything. Believe…me."_ There was just the tiniest bit of sadness in the words.

"Yes you are. I don't care if you were a bad person. Everyone is worth salvation."

**

* * *

**

**She looked like she had been built by shadows only. Long curls of hair floated around her like flames of Hell, her presence filling the whole canyon with mind numbing coldness. Makoto´s daddy looked like a little doll before her, standing calmly where he was. She screamed and cried, and waved her fists uselessly. Makoto put his hands on his ears but it didn´t help.**

**Then she hit daddy.**

**And everything stopped.**

"**Hello Mariko." **

**She stared Manta, all rage disappearing as recognition took place.**

"_**You can…see me?"**_

"**I told you I can."**

"_**Yes…I remember…Why are you here?"**_

"**They say something is haunting here. I thought it might be you. I've come to help."**

"_**But why?!"**_

"**Everyone is worth rescuing, Mariko."**

* * *

"What's your name?" Makoto asked. 

"_My…name?"_

"Yes. My name is Makoto. Oyamada Makoto."

"_My name…I think it was…Keiji."_

Makoto smiled.

"Keiji is a nice name."

"_I suppose."_

"Keiji. Why are you here? Why are you angry? And don't try telling me you weren't—You called me and I could _taste_ the desperation."

"_It hurts…I was…abandoned. I was left…behind. Wounded, and…tired."_

"Who left you?" Makoto pressed. There was a short silence.

"_Ha…you sneaky kid…thought you could get me to talk, didn't you?"_

"It was a worth of a shot," Makoto grinned. Somehow the atmosphere had changed to lighter.

**

* * *

**

**"Mariko, I know why you are still here," Makato´s daddy said. His voice was as serious as when Makato had broken that vase yesterday.**

**"Mariko, you have to know that I forgive you."**

**The ghost of a woman twisted and turned, like caught in a storm of guilt inside her.**

**_"How can you! What I did…"_ **

**"You were afraid," Manta said gently, "I understand."**

"**_Understand…"_ Woman's voice was sounding like it came from somewhere far away. Suddenly she started to fade rabidly, like the words Manta had said had been some kind of magic. The shadows were disappearing, and Makoto felt warmer. **

**_"Manta…thank you…"_ **

**Now she was a mere mass of twisting light and shadows. And then, just before disappearing, her voice rose out one more time.**

**_"Tell him…that I love him…despite everything…"_ **

**Daddy sent an air kiss towards the disappearing light.**

**"I will. Good bye, Mariko."**

* * *

"_You are a strange one, Makoto."_

"Hm?" Makoto hadn't been paying attention, too wrapped up staring down the cemetery and his memories.

The shadows before him twisted, and suddenly Makoto was able to see a face in the middle of the mist. Slowly, like when you look a picture that doesn't first make any sense, and then suddenly does, the form of a human was starting to form. A _real_ human. Black clothes came visible, a pale face with a nasty scar running across it and a long nose. Limp, long black hair and the same piercing blue eyes.

And suddenly there was Kenji.

"This is starting to get ridiculous," the ghost sighed and somehow even his voice had changed to a more humane one. Makoto sighed too and sat down heavily.

"_Finally._ I was starting to think you'd never give up," he murmured.

"You are too stubborn. What can I do, when you just stand there and won't go away? Cunning boy, making me think for the first time in hundreds of years," Kenji said.

"You could have possessed me," Makoto said quietly, but couldn't help but smirk a little.

"And how long would that helped? No," Kenji sighed, "I was defeated. Maybe even already when you first came here. I just wanted…wanted to talk to somebody. I wanted somebody to tell me to stop whining, I suppose. And you have the same kind of mind as I."

Makoto looked at his feet, not knowing what to say. Age old sadness and loneliness hung in the air like a mist, swirling and suffocating. Then Makoto finally cleared hid throat.

"Are you…are you going to heaven now?" Kenji laughed, bitterly.

"Heaven? Me? I don't think that's a place for me…No, if I go somewhere, it would be hell. But not anytime soon, mind you. I have to make up for some of my sins before that." He smiled at Makoto.

For some reason, Makoto felt happy about that.

* * *

Review? "puppyeyeslookofdoom" 


	6. The Four Deaths

**Chapter 6: The Four Deaths**

* * *

Makoto wasn't afraid, even though the cemetery was dark and full of restless spirits. He wasn't even afraid about the fact that he was sitting with a former fixated, mad ghost, now called Keiji, watching stars. Neither was saying much. There wasn't anything to say. It was a comfortable silence, like with old friends. "Funny," Makoto thought as he watched gleaming spots of lights on the dark sky. 

He wasn't up to thinking much else right now, but it was funny.

"My weapons are buried here," Keiji said suddenly. He pointed, without looking, at the lonely tree. "Under that. Dig them up." Makoto didn't argue, just rose up, and started clawing the soft ground and grass with his hands.

"Not like that," Keiji snorted, annoyed. "Take a rock or something and dig with it."

"Excuse me, I would have taken my archaeology-kit, if I'd known," Makoto grumbled, as he chose a suitable flat stone and continued digging. Soon a corner of a metallic-box was revealed and he heard Keiji hissing in anticipation. Makoto lifted the box out from the hole carefully.

"It isn't locked," Keiji said, his voice oddly tight. Makoto took that as an invitation to open the box and did so, revealing two shimmering daggers laying on a cheap black cloth.

"We were the best," Keiji whispered next to him, his gaze fixed to the daggers like hypnotized.

"What were you back then?" Makoto asked.

"We stole. We killed. When necessary. I was called The Four Deaths." There was a disturbingly wistful note to his voice.

Makoto looked the box.

"Four? There are only two daggers there."

"Ah," Keiji smiled, "that's the trick. Let me show you."

* * *

A pair of violet blue eyes watched them carefully. The boy had a ghost, so that meant that he was a shaman. He would just wait the right opportunity, and then… 

_Attack._

* * *

"So let me get this straight? You were called Four Daggers Death, but in fact you only had two real daggers, because two of them were…imaginary?" Makoto didn't even try to conceal his smirk. 

Keiji frowned.

"No. You don't understand. The two other daggers are as true as these. They kill just as well as these. Will you let me show you?"

With a flash, Keiji turned to a small ball with his features on it.

"What kind of showing are you thinking?" Makoto asked warily.

"I'll possess you. I can't do it without a body," Keiji answered matter-of-factly.

"Uhhuh, no way!"

"Now come on, it won't-" Keiji started coaxingly, when he was cut off by a yelp.

"Hey shortie! Over here!" Makoto turned sharply, and saw a boy on the other side of the hill, smirking at him nastily.

"Who are you calling a shortie, brat?" Makoto demanded hotly.

The stranger was almost as short as Makoto, and he had mocking lilac eyes and spiky green hair. Not like Lori's bright green, but more darker shade. He was wearing a school suit, but Makoto didn't recognise it, so he wasn't probably around. He was clearly younger than Makoto.

Also, Makoto disliked him immediately.

And not just because he had just been called shortie.

"I want to battle with you," the boy called and turned around and frowned.

"Bason!"

A ghost of a Chinese warlord, just like Makoto had seen in the history books, appeared beside the annoying boy. Makoto couldn't see his face, but he clearly had the air of someone who really didn't want to be there. Nevertheless, the ghost bowed his head respectfully.

"What is that you want, young master?"

"Young master" didn't look too happy to be questioned.

"Didn't you just hear? I want to fight against that short peasant! He just insulted me!"

"But young master, " the ghost called Bason said looking suffering, "you insulted him first. And you insulted him again, just now. Don't you think that-"

"Will you stop that blabbering, Bason! I _said _I want to fight!"

"But master Ren said-"

"He doesn't have to know!"

Makoto and Keiji glanced at each other.

"Should I go now, and come back some other time?" Makoto asked, not bothering to keep his amusement away from his voice. The boy turned towards him fast as a snake and Makoto thought he could see his nostrils flaring in rage even with the distance between them.

"BASON!"

"You'd better let me inside you now, Makoto, " Keiji said.

Makoto watched in surprise as the boy integrated with his ghost, pushing him through his chest, and the ghost went right inside. He was now holding a deadly looking, spear-like weapon looking very much like he would like to kill Makoto now. And all the time Makoto could see the ghost too, like a shadow just behind the boy, but still inside him the same time.

"Makoto, " Keiji said again.

Makoto shook off his surprise with an effort and turned to glare Keiji.

"Do you really think it'll work?"

"_Yes_. I've seen it happen before. You are not the first shaman here you know."

The boy yelled something at Makoto, probably something insulting, but Makoto didn't have any time to answer as Keiji suddenly slammed right inside him through his chest.

Makoto gasped….

_A man with long black hair smiling crookedly and holding a long deadly sword, motioning him to follow…_

It felt like burning. It felt like freezing.

_A woman in kimono, trying very hard not to smile, but failing miserably. The same man, throwing an arm around his shoulders…_

He could feel the other mind. He could feel Keiji, his hands, his fingers, his legs, and as he moved, he moved too.

_Pain, rage, tears choking him, the same question dancing in his brain, holding him like a fever…_

_Why?_

Makoto fought against it before a voice-he was not sure if it was Keiji or himself-told him to stop.

_The feeling of death, numbness taking over him…It was cold._

All right, he would just have to adjust. Move over a little but not too much. This wasn't so hard at all…

Makoto realised that he had dropped on his knees and stood up again. He could vaguely hear the other boy shouting at him, but it was like a distant hum right now.

Makoto smiled. Keiji smiled.

Their hand reached for the daggers.

* * *

Authors Notes: 

Long time since the last update, but I´m just really slow. I actually have the next three chapters already planned out... (I´m not even sure if I have any readers, but what the heck, I´m doing this for myself.)

New original character! Whose name has not yet been revealed! And Bason! Most of you can probably already guess the last name of the mysterious intruder...

And some of you are probably asking, "what the heck? The Four Deaths?" What kind of name is that?" For your information, it´s my poor attempt to a word-play. You see, Keiji uses four daggers, yes? And the word "four" in japanese is "shi" which also means "death". So "The Four Deaths" is like...a word-play. Kinda. I´ve never tried before.

Ach, just don´t send me any reviews saying "that´s just stupid", okay? Let me have my fun. Please.

Review?


	7. Some Blinking And Surprise Meetings

**Some Blinking And Surprise Meetings**

* * *

With cool distance, Makoto regarded his opponent. His mind was flowing, memories and thoughts that weren't his own, but somehow felt…familiar. He took a step forward, adjusting his grip from the daggers and stumbled suddenly when a wave of dizziness came over him. 

"_I was afraid of this_," Keiji´s voice said in his mind.

"_What is it_?" Makoto asked, alarmed.

"_Your body is still inexperienced. It can't take possession like this for long_."

"_So this will mean…_" Makoto paused as a horrible thought occurred, "_you mean I'm going to fight with that weirdo while I can barely move? No way!"_

"_Just a little_," Keiji said, sounding vaguely guilty.

"_Just a little what? If I can't move, I can't fight can I? You have any advices on that?"_

"_How should I have known you were such a weakling_?" Keiji asked exasperatedly.

"_Oh for-I'm not a weakling, you're one to talk Mr. Four Daggers. Are you sure you're not compensating something with that?"_

"_Why you-!"_

Their quarrel was interrupted by the slightly shrill voice of the boy with spiky hair, now called the Spiky-Hair in Makoto´s mind.

"Excuse me? I don't have all day, so if you want to give up…" the boy trailed off, smirking. It was a slow, self-satisfied smirk, like the boy knew exactly what was going on in Makoto´s mind. Makoto wanted to punch him. Instead he sighed.

"_I should give up, really. It's just sensible, I'll get beaten to pulp like this_."

"_What? No_!" Keiji protested hotly.

"_No? It's my body we're talking about."_

"_But…that would be cowardly. I can't take that. We'll fight." _For a moment Makoto cursed all stupid ghosts of assassins who thought that anything even remotely sensible was the same as weakness.

"_Again, what part of my body, my rules didn't you get_?"

Keiji didn't answer. Instead, Makoto felt a small tug on his arm, and suddenly it moved. He watched with mixed feelings of horror and fascination, as his hand moved, on its own, over his head. It was like invisible strings were moving his muscles inside his own body.

"_I'll help you_," Keiji said, his voice tight with concentration, "_I'll help you move_."

Makoto stood there for a while, just fighting the dizziness and nausea so he could think straight. He thought about school, and dad, and homework waiting at home. It all seemed very small compared to this. Like something had been opened in his mind, some kind of a sense of pride that prevented him from backing out now. A tiny part of his mind was asking cynically whether jumping from a tall building would suffice better for exploring his manly courage, but he ignored that. He was a warrior now.

Slowly Makoto nodded, knowing that Keiji could read the answer from his mind.

Grasping the daggers, he stepped forward, the Spiky-Haired boy looking alerted as he noticed Makoto approaching. The air around him seemed to still, everything becoming quiet in his ears suddenly. It seemed like his view had suddenly reduced to just the boy in front of him…

"Wan! Where have you been? Bailong and I have been looking for you everywhere!"

Makoto stopped on his tracks, almost falling on his face as he tried to stop himself in the middle of a step, and would have without Keiji interfering.

The Spiky-Haired boy, now apparently named Wan, turned pale, and then red, as he turned to look at the woman climbing up the stone stairs to the hill. His ghost looked relieved and embarrassed at the same time, as if been caught with his hand in the cookie-jar.

She was tall, and beautiful, and obviously Asian. Her hair was green, almost, but not quite the same shade as the Spiky-Hair's and she was wearing a tight, revealing dress. All in all, even though she was probably a lot older than Makoto, his still budding libido didn't seem to care.

She also had the expression Makoto recognized as dad's expression #3 of I Am Very Disappointed and Worried Right Now. He instinctively moved a little further away.

"Do you have any idea how worried we were? You've been away for five hours, no notes left, you don't answer you cell phone-_What _was that?"

The Spiky-Hair looked down and mumbled something again.

"You turned it off? Why? Why would you do such thing, you know how we like to know where you are, Wan."

"I was battling mom! We were having a combat of spirits, testing our strengths and stuff! I can't answer my cell phone when that happens mom! " Spiky-Hair's wailed, glancing at Makoto desperately as if hoping he would come to his aid. Makoto turned his gaze at the tree and inspected it with great care. It was a nice tree, no reason not to look at it, and besides, Spiky-Hair had called him shorty.

"What? Battling? Wan," the woman looked at the Spiky-Hair with terrible motherly way that meant someone is going to embarrassed soon, "have you even done your homework? Eaten anything? You have school tomorrow, young man."

"I ate a muffin," Spiky-Hair said sullenly, "and we didn't get much homework, really."

"Muffin? No real meal?"

"Mooom!"

Makoto coughed, a bit embarrassed. It was never nice to see your mortal enemy being humiliated to dust.

"Makoto!" a new voice called him. He looked around a bit suspiciously, searching for more fixated ghosts. Keiji inside his mind shrugged, and then his presence was gone. It was like something had been ripped of inside his mind, and Makoto was hit with a sudden nausea and dizziness.

With now blurry eyes, Makoto saw a familiar figure arrive at the top of the stairs. Manta was still wearing his suit, although he had removed the tie and looked worried. Makoto realised that he had been away for quite awhile, probably enough to worry his father. But how had he knew to come looking at the cemetery?

"Dad?" he asked, voice raspy.

The woman turned in the middle of sentence, looking Makoto for the first time, blinked and twirled around to look his father.

"Manta?!"

His father blinked.

"J-Jun?" he asked, his voice unbelieving and a bit shocked.

"Mom?" Wan the Spiky-Hair asked. Everyone ignored him.

"Jun, seriously, what's taking you so long here, if he's not here, then-" a new voice emerged behind his father and a short man with the same spiky hair as Wan stopped in the middle of his sentence, staring at Makoto´s father.

"Manta?!" he asked.

"Ren," his father said, his eyes comically large now. Makoto would have laughed at him, but he was too busy concentrating on staying upright and keeping his eyes open.

"Uncle! What's going on?" Wanbrat exclaimed, annoyed.

"Well, well, well," the man said, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding Manta with strange expression, "I didn't know you were in Japan, Manta. Or that you had a son," he nodded towards Makoto, who grimaced.

His father swallowed.  
"Look Ren…"

"We need to talk," the man called Ren interrupted. Spiky-Hair's mother nodded, her face serious, while Spiky-Hair just looked Makoto confused. He shrugged. That was a bad mistake, as he swayed and his knees finally gave up on him.

He could still vaguely hear his father yelp, before his eyes rolled back and he was cast in sweet unconsciousness.

* * *

A/N: Whee, an update. I haven´t felt like writing anything for a long time, I´m finally coming back out of my hole. Finally managed to bring some more SK characters to this story, it was starting to be alarmingly OC for me. Jun and Reeen! 3 And Manta will now be more in the picture too. Actually, I´m thinking, maybe...Ren/Manta slash? Since Ren will be a bachelor in my story and all. What can I say, Falcon Strife´s Kids Will Be Kids and Something Special have converted me. Not that there will be mentions of Yoh/Manta, (I still love Yoh/Manta!) but it might be more of a past relationships. Since, you know, Yoh is married and all. We´ll see what I make up. 


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